


For Better or Worse

by mnemosyne23



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, Lost RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Tearjerker, Unrequited Love, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-20
Updated: 2006-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of Dom and Emilie's wedding, Billy pays a visit to Emilie's room to ask her the one question she can't answer: why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Better or Worse

_I'm open, you're closed;_  
Where I follow, you'll go.  
I worry I won't see your face  
Light up again… 

_\-- Howie Day, "Collide" --_

 

They had decided to hold the ceremony in Scotland, though neither of them could boast a Scottish heritage. Emilie had fallen in love with the country the first time Dom had taken her there on holiday, and she knew there was nowhere she would rather be married than in that rugged, wild landscape. She justified it to her family by saying it was close to Dom's relatives, as well as buying all their plane tickets; otherwise her side of the church might have been empty come the wedding day.

They'd been in the country two weeks, finalizing preparations, and it had rained steadily for the past five days. Emilie's mother was fretting, but Emilie herself didn't mind; it didn't really matter what the weather was like; that was why God had invented tents. So long as Dom was there to say his _I Dos_ , she'd be content. Judging by the fact that he'd barely left her side for the past month, she was fairly well-assured that he'd be there with bells on; and possibly nothing else, because that was the kind of thing her Dominic would do.

Laughing quietly at the thought, Emilie moved away from the hotel window, letting the gauzy white curtain fall shut behind her, obscuring the gray sky and pattering rain outside. The clouds were less leaden and more silver today; perhaps the weather would break by tomorrow. It would be nice, if only because it would prove all her mother's fretting had been unnecessary.

Everyone had arrived by now, including Elijah, who had just gotten into town two days earlier after a whirlwind press junket for his latest film. The entire _Lost_ cast had come, of course. Josh and Naveen had gotten right down to sampling the local spirits their first night in town, and the way they'd been drinking, the champagne at the wedding might actually sober them up by flushing the whiskey out of their systems. Maggie, Evie and Yunjin were all in a tizzy over the fact that their bridesmaid gowns were not, in fact, hideous; Emilie didn't believe in unnecessary frou frou when it came to important things like fashion. Simple A-line gowns in pale moss green; a color that suited each woman's complexion, as well as accenting the beautiful Scottish landscape. Emilie's own gown was a sleek, off the shoulder affair that hugged her curves, with a diaphanous translucent overlay that billowed beautifully with the slightest breath of air. Dom hadn't seen it yet -- some traditions were sacred, after all -- but he was going to have a heart attack when he did. _Tomorrow_ , she thought, and a foolish grin spread across her face. _He'll see it tomorrow._

It didn't seem real. Tomorrow she would stop being Emilie de Ravin, single girl, and start being Emilie Monaghan, wife of Dominic. True, her S.A.G. card would still read _de Ravin_ , but that was a technicality; everything was going to change. She didn't know if the knot in her stomach was fear, excitement, or impatience.

A knock at the door drew her out of her thoughts. "Just a minute!" she called. It would be room service, come to collect her lunch dishes. She hadn't touched the food; this fist in her abdomen had robbed her of any kind of appetite. Gathering everything together on the cart again, she wheeled it to the door. "Sorry, I couldn't eat," she said, opening the door one handed as she adjusted the cutlery on the cart with the other. "Not hun-" She looked up.

And froze.

"Hello, Emilie," Billy said, framed in her doorway, backlit by the corridor so that all she could see were his eyes and his smile. "May I come in?"

 

\--------------------------------------

 

The room smelled like her; that familiar scent of vanilla mixed with coconut that would always make him think of her. He stood at the foot of her bed, watching her flutter around like a butterfly as she tried to work the coffee machine. "Damn… blast…," he heard her mutter as the contraption refused to cooperate. "Bugger it…"

"Luv, es all right," he assured her with a smile. "If I don't get coffee, the world's not going ta end. Let it go."

She looked sheepishly at him over her shoulder. "I'm not usually this inept," she apologized, tossing the ruined filter into the garbage and turning around to perch on the edge of the dresser so she was facing him.

"I know," he reminded her quietly. "I've seen ye do it."

Emilie cast her eyes downward, examining her bare feet. "Right," she murmured.

An uneasy silence fell between them. Billy pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, shrugging his leather jacket further forward on his shoulders. Rain dripped off his hair and dribbled down his nose.

"Would you like a towel?" Emilie asked after a minute, looking up and finding his eyes. She looked afraid he'd say no.

"That'd be great, yeah," he said.

She nodded. "I'll get it." He watched her dart into the attached bathroom, as if desperate for action. Billy let his eyes drift over the few possessions she'd set out during her two week stay: some framed photographs of her friends and family, including a large one of her and Dom on the beach in Hawaii; a small pile of unfinished romances with creases in the pages to mark her place; a tour guide of France, where she and Dom were taking their honeymoon; and on the bed, her teddy bear. It was an old, ratty thing, more fabric than fur and missing an eye; she called him Puck and had had him since she was five.

"Here you go." Her voice near his shoulder brought his attention back to the fore, and he saw that she was holding a white hotel towel up for him. Her smile was genuine as he accepted it.

"Ta very much," he said, rubbing the towel over his wet hair.

"Here, give me your jacket," she said, moving behind him and tugging the coat away from his shoulders. This was Mothering Emilie; she had a protective streak a mile wide. "You'll catch a cold, walking around in wet clothes."

"Es leather, Emilie. Cows get wet all the time."

"Don't be a smartass, Billy," she chided, but he could tell she was smiling, even if she was standing behind him.

He grinned and let her take the jacket; it _did_ feel good to have the warmth of the room on his shoulders, through the soft flannel of his shirt. "Ye shouldn't've picked Scotland ta be married, luv," he observed, going back to toweling his hair as Emilie hung his coat on a hook by the door. "Dinnae I tell ye the weather's as likely ta smack ye in the mouth as pat ye on the back?"

"Actually, I think you said the weather's crap nine-tenths of the year."

"Ah, not so poetic then."

"Not so much, no."

"Waell, es true either way. Why dinnae ye have the ceremony in Hawaii?" He tossed the towel onto the dresser beside the coffee machine, and watched in amusement as she picked it up and folded it.

"I spend so much of my life in that area of the world, Billy," she said, setting the towel neatly on the dresser again. "For something like this I wanted to go somewhere else. Besides, it's closer to Dom's family and he almost never gets to see them, being on the other side of the planet most of the time."

Billy nodded. "Right," he said. "'Sthat all?"

Emilie, who had been idly rubbing her arm, stopped moving. "What do you mean?" she asked carefully.

Billy sighed, running a hand through his wet, spiky hair. "Don't play coy with me, Emilie," he said, before fixing her with a dark stare. "That only works in bed."

Emilie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Jesus, Bill," she muttered, pushing away from the dresser and brushing past him, heading for the window.

"Ye still haven't answered my question," he said, keeping his eyes fixed to the wall behind where her head had been.

"Why don't you come right out and ask it then, instead of tiptoeing around the subject?" she snapped from her position by the window, staring moodily at the rain.

Billy turned his head, taking in her stony profile and tense posture. "Fine," he said, voice clipped. "Did ye have another reason for coming ta Scotland, Emilie?"

Her fingers toyed with the curtain for a minute as she visibly debated what to say. "What do you want me to say?" she settled on, turning her eyes in his direction. "Yes or no?"

"Now who's tiptoeing, eh?" he observed.

"What do you want me to _say_ , Bill?" she repeated, turning away from the window and leaning against the wall, arms crossed protectively over her stomach. "You want me to say I wanted to get married in Scotland so I could guarantee you'd be there? I thought about it. Was it the deciding factor? No, but it was there."

Cor, but she was beautiful. Her hair was loose and draped in artful ringlets over her shoulders and down her back, framing that peaches-and-cream face he saw in his dreams. She was wearing a pair of comfortable jeans and a loose pink cashmere sweater that did nothing to hide her svelte curves, especially when she hugged herself as she was doing now. Bill could see the tempting swells of her hips; wanted to rest his hands there and squeeze, pulling her against him as she moaned his name and pressed her lips against his throat.

"Why're ye doing this, Emilie?" he asked quietly; far quieter than he'd intended.

She rested her head against the wall. "Doing what, Bill?" she murmured, eyes tired.

"Ye know what," he said, moving towards her. She made no move to get away as he closed the distance between them and hemmed her in against the wall with his arms. "Why're ye marrying him?" he whispered fervently.

Emilie gazed up into his eyes. She looked at him tenderly; full of so much goddamn compassionate understanding, he wanted to spit. "Because I love him," she whispered.

Billy felt his face buckle. "What about _me_?" he asked, ignoring the fact he sounded like the last child picked on the playground. "What about me, Emilie?"

She was so close; her scent was overpowering. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd leaned forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers, moaning into her mouth as his hands came up to bury themselves in her luxurious hair. After a moment he felt her respond, opening her mouth for him as her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him like a life raft in a flood.

_Yes, yes, yes, yes…_

How was he supposed to give this up?

 

\--------------------------------

 

Even as she did it, Emilie knew kissing Billy was wrong. She was getting married tomorrow to a man she loved dearly; this was not the time to make out with his best mate and Best Man.

No matter how good he tasted.

"Billy," she mumbled against his lips, feeling his hands pushing at the hem of her sweater. Pressing her hands against his chest, she continued, "Billy, stop. We can't do this…"

"Yes we can," he murmured, kissing down her throat. Emilie found she was arching her neck for him. "We've done it before…"

"This is different," she moaned, simultaneously pressing her hand against the back of his head to keep him close while pushing against his chest to move him away. "This isn't like before."

"It can be." He moved up again, grazing his lips across hers as he spoke. "It doesn't have ta change, luv. We can still be together."

Emilie looked into his eyes; so eager, full of hope. "No, Billy," she whispered, choking on the sudden lump that had formed in her throat. "We can't."

He stared at her, and she watched as his eyes went from hope to pain to hollow denial. "Why not?" he asked, sounding as broken as her heart felt.

Emilie sighed, stroking his cheek. "I'm going to be married, Billy," she murmured. "It's not like dating, or even being engaged. It can't work the same way."

He stared at her for a few seconds longer, then pushed away from the wall, stumbling backwards as though she were a snake. "So it means nothing," he said in revulsion, and Emilie was stung by the venom in his voice. "Everything, all we've said ta each other -- nothing!"

Emilie shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. "Billy, I didn't say that," she pleaded, reaching out to him. "Please, I don't mean it like that!"

"Ye don't? Waell, what DID ye mean then? _It's been nice, Bill, thanks for the sex, now leave._ Es that it?"

"No!"

"Then how can ye DO it, Emilie! How can ye jus'… throw me away? Throw _us_ away! Tell me how, because I can't do it! I keep thinking about how you're going ta be Dom's wife, and I try ta be happy for ye both, but I jus' end up bitter and angry and drunk. I've been drunk for a fortnight -- ever since the two of ye's came ta Scotland. Dinnae ye notice? Or did ye cut that cord already?"

He was staring at her with such a desperate need to understand, and Emilie didn't have a clue how to explain to him. "I noticed," she murmured, trying to calm the tone of the conversation. "I noticed, Billy."

"And ye did nothing…"

"What did you want me to do? Sleep with you? Will that make it all better? Because I don't think it will, Bill. Tomorrow I'm STILL getting married, and that isn't going to change. I love Dom too much to _allow_ it to change."

Billy staggered backward a few more steps until he landed with a _whoosh_ on the edge of the bed. "I love ye, too," he murmured. "Doesn't that mean anything?"

Emilie felt her face falter. Moving swiftly, she knelt in front of him, catching up his hands between her own. "Billy, please," she whispered tearfully, pressing his hands under her chin. "Please, don't make this seem like I don't love you. You know that's not true. God, I love you so much, I can't think. When I'm in a room with you and Dom together, I can barely breathe because my heart swells so much it crushes my lungs." He smelled like leather and whiskey and cold Scottish rain. She wanted to press her face into his stomach and breathe him like oxygen.

"But ye love Dom more," he murmured.

Emilie shook her head vigorously. "No," she said, gritting her teeth against her tears and shuffling forward on her knees so she was pressed against his legs. "It's not about loving more, or even loving differently, Billy. I can say, in absolute honesty, that I love you both equally, and that’s with all my heart." She sighed, resting her cheek on his lap, feeling the warmth of his thighs through his well-worn denim. "I think about being away from you," she murmured, releasing his hands so she could hug his legs, "either of you, and it's like a piece of me dies. Tomorrow is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but all I can think about -- all I've thought about for the past year -- is that this means what we have has to end."

A moment passed, then she felt the familiar weight of his hand stroking her hair. She closed her eyes, feeling twin tears coast down her cheeks and over her temple. "Why him?" Billy murmured. "If ye love us both the same… why was it _so easy_ ta choose him?"

Emilie rubbed his calf soothingly, though whether it was to soothe him or herself, she didn't know. "Easy?" she murmured. "What made you think it was easy?"

Raising her head so her chin was planted on his knees, she gazed up into his summer green eyes. "I was with Dom when I met you, Billy," she said softly, reaching up to take his hands on either side of his lap. "I stayed with Dom all the time we've been together. If I left him for you, would that make me a better person than if I leave you for him? You and I knew what we were getting into when we started this, Billy; we were willing parties in this parade. But Dom didn't know; he had no say." She squeezed his hands tightly. "When all else is equal, Billy," she whispered, tears thick in her voice as she gazed up at him through blurry eyes. "When I love you both so much it hurts to breathe…" She brought his hands up to cradle her face and pressed his palms against her cheeks. " _We're_ the sinners here, Bill," she whispered fervently, eyes bright with tears. "We're the ones who did this. And we both knew it was going to end someday, for better or worse."

Billy's eyes were soft, and his thumbs stroked her cheeks tenderly. "For better or worse, eh?" he murmured with a melancholy smile. "Ye make it sound like we're the married ones, luv."

Emilie gave him a shaky smile in return, feeling fresh tears wash down her cheeks to pool against his thumbs. "You'd look ravishing in a tux," she joked softly.

He laughed quietly. "Ye say that now. Wait until tomorrow. Like a great red-haired penguin." He chuckled self-derisively. "Aye, right smashing."

Emilie laughed and saw Billy smile in return. "Aye," he murmured, running his thumbs beneath her lashes to wipe away her tears. "Tha's what I like ta see. My Emilie, smiling."

She squeezed his wrists, pulling his hands forward to press kisses to his palms as she kept her eyes locked with his. "I'll always be yours, Billy," she whispered, feeling the lump in her throat clutch at her words. "Whole pieces of me will always be yours. Between you and Dom, I don't know what's left to be mine."

"Come 'ere," he said quietly, reaching down to cradle her waist and guide her up onto his lap. Emilie went willingly, grateful to pillow her cheek on his shoulder. "No more tears, all right?" he soothed, rubbing her back comfortingly as he rocked her gently back and forth. "I'm sorry, luv. I'm sorry I came here. I should've stayed away, let ye be happy. I need ye ta be happy, ye ken?" He pressed his face into her hair, and she knew despite all his protests that he was crying.

Snaking her arms around his neck, she held him tightly, and now she was the one rocking _him_. "Don't be sorry," she whispered. "I'm glad you came." Bunching her fingers in his shirt she clung to him, feeling him respond in kind and twine his arms around her waist like steel cables. Digging her chin into his shoulder, she murmured, "I love you, Bill… Christ, I love you so much. If I could have you both… God, if I could just have you _both_ …" Her breath shuddered in her chest. "I don't want to let you go. But Bill… Could you give him up? Because if I went with you, that's what would happen."

He didn’t say anything, and she didn't expect him to. Neither of them needed to hear him say it to know his answer.

 

\----------------------------------

 

The day Billy met Emilie, it had been a sunny Saturday in May. The sun on her hair was dazzling, almost eclipsing her brilliant white smile. _"This is Emilie,"_ Dom had introduced her, wrapping his lean arms around the petite girl's waist. _"Isn't she beautiful?"_ Dom didn't believe in beating around the bush when he was in love; Billy found it endearing.

That day, however, he hardly noticed his best friend's goofy smile. All he saw was the vision in blue with the honey-gold tan who held out her hand to him and said, _"G'day,"_ in the most beautiful accent he'd ever heard.

_"At your service, my dear,"_ Billy remembered saying, with a flourishing bow. He might have even kissed her knuckles; must have in fact, because he remembered the taste of her fingers and the answering music of her laughter. _Beautiful?_ he remembered thinking. _Oh, Dommie, I thought you hated understatement._

That was then.

The day Billy gave Emilie up was overcast, though the rain had finally stopped and the clouds occasionally boiled away from the sun like breakers on the surf. It was a turbulent, primeval kind of sky, all shadows and smoky rays of sun in the lavender mist. Emilie made a stunning bride, and Dom cleaned up quite nicely in his slick fitted tuxedo. They made a striking pair, framed under the billowing white canopy of the marriage tent, perched on a Highland hilltop in the watery morning sun. Billy found himself watching them during the ceremony, imagining what their children would look like, how many they'd have; Dom wanted as many as she'd give him, Billy knew, but Emilie had confided she wanted three: twin girls and a boy. No doubt Dom would be more than willing to give her what she wanted, if he was able.

They really were hopelessly in love, the pair of them.

The kiss was the stuff of legend, and by Billy's count went on for a good decade or so before they broke apart to rollicking applause, whistles and catcalls. Emilie was laughing and Dom was grinning like a madman as he swept her up into his arms and ran down the carpeted aisle to where a white limo was waiting to take them to the reception, being held in the hotel garden. Billy watched them go, feeling a smile twitch his lips despite everything the past two weeks had done to his heart.

They really were hopelessly beautiful, the pair of them.

At the reception he gave his speech, to laughter and applause, and especially loud whistles from the _Lord of the Rings_ contingent that made up a good half of the guest list. He was pleased to see Dom blushing red as a radish during some parts of the toast, and even more happy to see a faint pink blush staining Emilie's cheeks at times. He knew them both better than either realized.

They really were hopelessly enchanting, the pair of them.

Then came the dinner and the dancing, and Billy took a turn or two around the dance floor with Liv and Evangeline. Elijah teased him about his kilt, so Billy made sure to mention the American's fondness for pornography -- quite loudly -- while the Iowan was dancing with that enchanting Maggie Grace. Elijah looked mortified, but Maggie looked intrigued; she was a keeper, that one. Billy hoped Elijah figured that out early and made sure to keep hold of her.

They really were hopelessly metaphorical, the pair of them.

The party stretched on, and the atmosphere was blissful and high-strung. Billy found himself joining in the singing of songs he'd never heard before, and dancing peculiar reels with Viggo in the middle of a cheering crowd of strangers who must have belonged to Emilie's side of the guest list. As the reception began to wind down hours later, and the sun was halfway through its passage towards the opposite horizon, he caught sight of Emilie and Dom playing hide and seek in bare feet around the garden topiaries, and thought how perfectly in character that was for the two of them; how absolutely, totally right.

They really were hopelessly perfect, the pair of them.

When Sir Ian bowed out of the festivities with a flourish and the final stanza's of Puck's closing speech from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , everyone took it as their cue to leave as well. There was much hugging and more than a few tears and well wishes. Billy had managed to avoid a lot of contact with Emilie for most of the day, and she had done likewise with him; it was easier that way. But he couldn't leave without saying goodbye to them; he owed them that much, and more.

Because they really were all he had in the world: the pair of them.

"Cheers, mate," he said, coming up to Dom as Emilie was having the life hugged out of her by Maggie and Evangeline. "Ye got through the day without once getting pissed and mooning your mother-in-law. I'm proud of ye."

Dom gave him a huge, foolish grin, and wrapped him in a tight bear hug. "Thanks for being here, Bill," he said giddily, and Billy knew his friend had been hitting the sauce from the fruity scent of wine on his breath. Getting himself ready for the wedding night, no doubt; funny that his friend could be so nervous about his first night as a husband, when in a lot of ways it was going to be the same as his last nights as a bachelor; Emilie was just a more permanent fixture under the blankets now. Billy supposed he couldn't blame him; the thought of having twenty-four hour access to Emilie was enough to make even the most steadfast of men feel lightheaded.

"Ye think I'd've missed it, Dommie?" he teased, clapping the other man on the back a few times before pulling away and grinning into his friend's flushed face. "Not for all the tea in China. And from what I hear tha's quite a lot."

"I hope you've got enough strength left in those arms to hug the bride." Billy looked to the side and found Emilie smiling up at him. Maggie and Evangeline had apparently run off to do whatever it was bridesmaids did at these things, and they'd left her deliciously pristine despite all their hugging. Her hair was slightly wind-tossed, and she'd changed from her wedding gown to a shorter, more efficient white sundress for the reception, showing off her slender ballerina legs and sweet feet. A sense memory hit him in the stomach as he looked at her; the memory of how it felt when she'd tuck one of those small feet between his legs at night to let him know she was awake and wanting. Those were the nights when he could stay with her, because Dom was away and neither of them had anything to do the next day. Those were Bill's favorite nights to be with her; he realized now they had been too few.

"Course I do," he said with a smile that he hoped wasn't as sad as his thoughts. "Question es, are ye all hugged out?"

"There's always room for a Billy hug," she said with a grin, and he admired her ability to keep her voice steady when he could see her heart in her eyes.

"Your wish es my command, luv," he murmured, hoping Dom was tipsy enough to miss the catch in his voice. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arms around Emilie's lithe figure, cradling her against his chest and feeling her slender arms curl around his back. He wanted to crush her up against his body and feel her wrap a leg around his knees; wanted to somehow conjure ancient Pictish magic and bring down a funnel cloud to lift them both away from here and carry her off to some wild hilltop far away, where they could stay together like a couple in one of those unfinished romance novels he'd seen in her room the day before. The hem of her sundress swished against his knees, and something about that was so intensely erotic, he thanked God for his sporran. She was whispering something against his shoulder, but so softly he couldn't hear her for the blood pounding in his ears.

He let her go.

Standing back, he held her hands and gave her a half-smile. "Ye take good care of him, aye?" he murmured, squeezing her fingers. "I'll be watching."

"I will," she said back, and he watched her blink away tears.

"Isn't she beautiful, Bills?" Dom said, breaking into the moment and wrapping his arms around Emilie's waist from behind. Emilie giggled and Bill released her hands so she could rub Dom's arms gleefully. "Don't you just want to take her home and snog her senseless?"

"Dom!" Emilie squealed, a little too loudly.

"You are, you know," Dom cooed near her ear, nuzzling her jaw. "You're beautiful. Isn't she, Bills?" Dom fixed him with large, plaintive eyes.

"Aye, she is," Bill answered with a soft smile. "The loveliest flower in this garden."

"Do you want to dance with her?" Dom asked.

"What?" Bill and Emilie asked in tandem.

"Come on, Bill," Dom said eagerly, straightening up and reaching out a hand to his friend. "I can't keep her all to myself; 'snot natural. Not healthy, being so totally happy. Dance with her. Dance with my wife."

For a moment, the world stopped moving. Billy didn't even see Dom's goofy grin; all he saw was the vision in white with the midnight blue eyes who was watching him without breathing. He saw her hand twitch a couple of times, almost reaching out to him…

"No, Dommie," he heard himself say, as if in a dream. "Ye can never be too happy, lad." Shaking himself out of his trance, he gave his friend a smile. "Ye go ahead and dance with her. She's all yours, mate."

Dom grinned giddily. "That's not a bad idea, that," he agreed. "I like how you think, Boyd."

Emilie laughed as Dom spun her around in his arms and swept her away in a stumbling, half-drunk variation of a waltz. Her eyes were shining as brightly as her smile as she took over the lead and led him in leisurely circles around the lawn.

Billy watched them dance; saw Emilie's gentle corrections of Dom's drunken gait; saw Dom's long fingers come to rest protectively on Emilie's slender waist. He found he was crying, though for once it wasn’t because of what he'd lost; it was because his friends were so mind-bogglingly happy. For a moment he let himself wonder what this scene would have been like had he been the one Emilie had chosen, rather than Dom. For one, Dominic wouldn't have been there; the younger man was passionate, and that kind of betrayal would have shaken him to the core. There would have been an awkward air of uneasiness from the guests, most of whom were mutual friends; some of them might even have chosen not to come, to show some solidarity with Dom. He was willing to believe it would have been raining, too, rather than this tumultuous, ruggedly beautiful sky.

But he would have had Emilie. So far as he was concerned, that would have been enough.

It wasn't worth it, standing there dreaming about unattainable variations on this theme. Dom was happier than Billy had ever seen him, and Emilie was glowing with the kind of internal light that Bill had thought only applied to stained glass angels. Would it have been worth denying them this, if it meant he was the one who got the girl in the end?

Perhaps. But looking at Dom's face right now, he didn't feel the need to find out.

He waited until they were on the far side of the lawn, spinning in dizzy circles, before turning away and heading towards the car park. The cool, damp air of the approaching evening folded around him like a cloak, and when he looked over his shoulder and saw a swirl of white, he couldn't tell if it was the mist or Emilie's twirling dress. He settled for believing it was the mist, and left them to their dance.

 

 

**THE END**


End file.
